Hockey With Benefits(74)

“Mara.” He said my name quietly.

“I just don’t want to go back to bad habits, and you know, it’s new to me and I want to be cautious. I know it doesn’t make sense, but you know about my mom. You’ve met her. Zeke knows about her. He has my back. Taz, which is new. You. This is a big step for me. I feel weird even trying to explain this.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know, but–”

“For real. You don’t have to. I get it.”

I was almost shredding my blanket, picking at it. “The original agreement was that if we’re having sex with each other, neither of us has sex with anyone else. I’m changing that so if you want to, you know. You can. With someone else.”

Please don’t.

He got quiet, again.

I clamped my eyes shut, so tight. Waiting.

“I have no plans for that, but… Thank you. I guess?”

He guessed?

Okay. We weren’t a couple. That had never been on the table, so I got it. I understood. He was keeping his options open. That’s what he was doing. Totally made sense.

“Right.” From me.

“Yeah.” From him. Still quiet.

“Okay. I’m going to go. Study. I wouldn’t be surprised if we had a surprise quiz in abnormal psych tomorrow.”

“Me too.”

I stared at my phone, holding it.

I didn’t end the call. I stared at my phone.

Twenty seconds later, he ended it from his side.

There was that.





35





CRUZ





I was smashed up against the plexiglass, and threw an elbow back, pushing the guy off me. He grunted. “You’re toast, Styles. We gonna burn your ass up.” The ref hit his whistle, skating over, waving to the penalty box.

It was a good call, but the crowd booed.

“Whatever.”

“Penalty!” The ref went over to identify the actual call, but the guy, number 25, was already heading to the box.

Labrowski came over. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” I turned to glare. It was our opposing team’s enforcer who’d come after me. He’d been going at me hard all night long, ever since Atwater went after their team’s lead scorer. Tit for tat, but I was getting sick of it.

“You good?” The ref came back, and I nodded, my ego more bruised than anything. He gave a nod and headed back to where he’d drop the puck. “Let’s play then.”

Labrowski patted my shoulder pad, nodding to the bench. “Line change.”

Fuck. It was early, but we headed over, jumping in as the others climbed over the wall and got onto the ice. The game was going a few seconds later. “Styles.” Atwater tossed me a water. I caught it as I sat down, squeezing the bottle, the water spraying through the cage and into my mouth.

The coach came over, leaning down. “How are you doing?”

I eyed him, giving him a quick nod. “I’m fine.”

“He’s been going at you all night.”

I was aware. “I’m good, Coach.”

He gave another brisk nod before moving on, hitting me briefly on the shoulder with his coach’s tablet. Atwater sat in the space he just cleared out of and bent forward. “Don’t worry. Keys’ got your back.”

Our enforcer and his enforcer. They’d been trading their targets all night long. Sometimes we didn’t use our enforcer, but tonight was a different matter. The whole game was worse than the others, but Sacramento’s team was living up to their reputation. They were rough and liked to fight dirty.

Rules were stricter in college than in the NHL, but these refs didn’t seem aware of that. They were letting too much go.

We were in our third period. They were trying to go hard on me this first game, tire me out for the second game. I gritted my teeth, knowing I couldn’t let it work.

“Go!” It was time for another line change.

The third line went out. We had the fourth still, and then it’d be my turn.

A few minutes later, we were on the ice.

I didn’t wait around.

Skating over, I stole the puck and off I went. The harder they went at me, the harder I played. I needed to remind them of that fact.

Keys went to the left wing so I used his shield, moved around to their center. Around their center. Their defense was coming up, and I zipped around one, back through, and there was an opening.

Labrowski was behind me.

I deflected, hoping he’d catch this fast enough.

I feigned with my stick, but tapped the puck back with my skate, right to Labrowski, and GOAL!

He saw my pass, having seen it eighteen other times this season.

The goalie had moved with me, so the goal was wide open.

The light lit up, and as I was circling behind the net, their enforcer was glaring at me.

I glared right back.

Two minutes later, the end of the game sounded.

We’d won, by our teeth.





My phone rang as I was walking into the hotel. I’d stayed late for an extra soak and rubdown. I needed it. The coach told me to head in earlier the next morning for another one. I’d need that too, though the most I needed right now was sleep.